Those Who Meet Must Part
by Umi Hinode
Summary: Every action has consequences.


When he awoke, he was covered in blood.

At first glance, it was all his own. Cuts fiercely adorned his body, reducing his beloved bartender's uniform to shreds and displaying newly born scars barely visible to the eye. Scarlet painted every inch of white it could, and were he not Heiwajima Shizuo, the man who tore his limbs day by day and barely broke a sweat, the man who had become painfully accustomed the idea that his life would never know peace, it most likely would have caused him to panic. The cherry on top was the fact that as he sat up, vision blurred and surroundings seemingly distant, a blur of red came into focus, slowly gushing from his abdomen. Shizuo rapidly blinked his eyes, and when his vision finally settled, it took him all of two seconds to recognize the knife lodged inside of him. What were once faint voices in the distance turned to shouts he couldn't bring himself to comprehend, though he could discern from those distinct tones that it had to be Russian.

Everything clicked as he stood up from behind Russia Sushi's bar. Varona appeared to be arguing with Dennis, Simon attempting to mediate between the two with Tom off the side, just as lost as Shizuo. Tom was the first to notice him, immediately rushing to his side, the others soon following.

"What the hell is going on?" Shizuo brought himself to ask, rubbing his temple.

Tom gaped at him. "You really don't remember?" He asked, tone uncharastically soft.

Varona shifted in the distance, back against the wall, her leg bandaged, immediately catching Shizuo's attention. When he looked closer, he realized she was perhaps .01% away from being able to kill him with simply a stare.

"I request you stop this act, Shizuo-senpai."

Shizuo raised his brows. Knowing it would be pointless to try and argue with her, he turned to Tom for reassurance, though his boss remained silent. With a sigh, he asked, "Seriously, can someone just explain to me what's going on?"

The restaurant's occupants exchanged glances, and after a moment, Simon said solemnly, "Shizu-o, I told you fighting no good."

Tom headed to the opposite side of the restaurant, gesturing for Shizuo to follow him. They entered the room off to the side, and Shizuo was greeted with a nod by a bald man he couldn't recognize. His attention focused on the center of the room, and his stomach dropped.

Matted black hair. Bruises poking out from the parts of the face that hair couldn't quite cover. That ridiculous fur coat, just as bloodied and battered as he, the once pure white fur tainted crimson. Both arms twisted in a way human limbs shouldn't have been able to achieve - not even Shizuo's. The pool of blood seeping out from underneath the body.

Finally, he remembered.

Someone was screaming.

Why? He wondered. It was Izaya. Even then, there was no way he was dead. If there was anything he was good at, it was pissing people off, and something surviving everything Shizuo threw at him.

Izaya wasn't dead, and Shizuo wasn't the one screaming.

. . .

Shizuo wasn't quite sure what led him to sit in the park alone in the darkness and silence that came with being awake at four in the morning, but there he was, eyes closed, head tilted back, cigarette in hand. The crisp November air, frozen in the middle of the night, pricked at his skin. Only flickering street lights illuminated the surrounding area in the rare moment that was Ikebukuro's silent hour. The city might as well have been a different place, and it was something he had dreamed of, but never believed he'd see. It was strange for a city that never sleeps to suddenly hit a standstill, even in the dead of night.

It was peaceful, far unlike the sleepless nights that often claimed him.

"Is this seat taken?"

It _was_ peaceful. Under ordinary circumstances, every cell in his body should be screaming, fight or flight naturally taking control, but even by Ikebukuro's standards, these were extraordinary circumstances.

Orihara Izaya was mere inches away, and Heiwajima Shizuo wasn't angry.

Shizuo didn't have to open his eyes - he would've recognized that condescending, yet honeyed, tone anywhere - but revealing his enemy to himself, framed by only the light of the moon, almost seemed necessary.

Something was off. He couldn't place it, and just for a moment, just a split second, he reasoned he didn't want to.

Izaya didn't wait for an answer, sitting beside him regardless, albeit keeping a reasonable distance between them. No matter how hard either of them tried, letting their guard down was out of the question. After a decade of this cat and mouse game, it was a reflex beyond instinct. Shizuo supposed he didn't mind Izaya sitting beside him all that much, though it was a rather clear sign that Izaya was an atrocious listener when it came to Shizuo, unless he had something to gain.

With a frown, Shizuo pried his eyes away, commenting, "Thought something smelled like shit."

Izaya chuckled, weaker than Shizuo had expected. Everything about him seemed quieter, and dare he say more vulnerable. He was ghostly, with those tired eyes and a smirk that held no weight.

Perhaps they were both just too sleep-deprived.

"Nice to see you too," Izaya responded, resting his hands in his lap rather than his pockets. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Shizuo muttered, taking in one last breath of smoke before putting his cigarette out. Izaya shifted his weight beside him as he did so, and Shizuo had to wonder if he had really moved closer, or if he was just imagining everything.

Izaya shrugged in response. "I just happened to be in town."

"At four a.m.?"

"An informant's job is never done," Izaya hummed, tone as impish as always.

Shizuo's heart almost sank.

 _If I could believe in you, for just a moment…_

"What about you?" Izaya asked, abruptly for Shizuo, bringing him back down to earth. "I highly doubt you just finished working."

Shizuo frowned in thought. "I don't know. I just...needed to get out, I guess."

"Fair enough," Izaya said with a yawn. "This is the only time the city's quiet. No wonder you'd be drawn to it."

Maybe he did listen.

"Why are you here?" Shizuo asked, shocked by his own light tone. Izaya stifled a laugh, and Shizuo swore he saw a smile.

Probably just a trick of the light.

"Not Ikebukuro here. I mean here," he clarified, gesturing to the bench.

"So what you meant to ask was why am I willing to sit this close to you for more than a millisecond?" Izaya replied, turning his head, allowing them to make eye contact for the first time that night. "Even the worst of enemies deserve a truce sometimes." Shizuo, unsurprisingly, gaped at him as he continued. "Frankly, wasting all of my energy on you is exhausting."

"Damn," was all Shizuo could say. As he sat there, Izaya by his side, those intrusive thoughts returned, and the words were coming out of his mouth before he knew it. "Do you… do you ever think about what it'd be like if we didn't hate each other?"

Izaya fell silent. It was a simple yes or no question, but a trick question at that.

"Unfortunately we can't turn back time, Shizu-chan."

 _But it'd be nice if we could._

"That's true," Shizuo murmured, eyes downcast on his hands. "So, why start a truce now?"

"Things have been quiet lately," Izaya murmured. "And I'm bored. I thought it would be interesting to see how you'd react."

"And?"

Izaya held his breath, and Shizuo frowned in response. "Unpredictable, as always."

"What, you don't think I could go without trying to kill you for ten minutes?"

Izaya raised his brows. "Did _you?_ "

Silence.

"At least you're honest," Izaya laughed to himself as he rose from the bench, stretching his arms out and cutting his laugh short to let out a long yawn.

"Go get some sleep, flea."

Izaya murmured something incomprehensible before walking towards the light, managing a weak wave of farewell. Shizuo remained seated, watching him until he was out of sight, still trying to process what had transpired.

For the first time in over a decade, they had a truce, completely unprompted, just like that. He no longer had to ask himself if it was possible, and he was almost optimistic. Lately, it had seemed like anything was possible, between demonic blades professing their love for him and him finally being able to control his cursed strength, little by little.

Izaya was right, things had been awfully quiet. It made sense, considering the city had been taken by storm between the Slasher and Yellow Scarves incidents, though Ikebukuro was never silent for long.

He was a fool to think otherwise.

. . .

Perhaps that was why he was even angrier than usual, as he stood there jamming what was supposedly Izaya's doorbell until his finger bled, as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop desperately trying to escape the Awakusu-kai, as he found it in himself to pretend for Akane's sake that he and Izaya were friends. He couldn't stand Izaya, that was an undeniable fact. Even the mention of him set Shizuo off. His hatred for Izaya was hardwired, something far more uncontrollable than even his temper. That night, he had really wanted to believe things would change. Was he that desperate for peace he'd even search for it in his sworn enemy? It was laughable, but all he felt was pure, untempered rage.

 _You'll never change._

Never again, he swore to himself, powerless as he stood amongst the flames, as Varona shoved him out of the way, as he told Izaya goodbye for the final time.

Powerless against his own wrath.

He watched as Izaya brought himself to stand, his twisted arms limp at his sides, his grip too frail to hold his knife any longer. He watched as his enemy fought to find his voice, pitifully rasping with all the strength he had left,

"Just do it, monster."

He was broken; completely and utterly broken. There wasn't a hint of malice left in those open, truthful eyes. He had accepted that he was going to die.

 _No._ Somewhere within the sea of anger, Shizuo cried out. _Don't do this._

He couldn't hear himself, and the silence was deafening. The shouts of gang members, the blaring horns of the bosozokus' bikes, a single gunshot, and the scream that followed. All of it was absent, save for one word.

 _Kill._

 _Kill._

 _Kill._

Izaya's genuine smile became nothing more than a dream.

…

 _"Oh no, I'm not mad. I just want to beat the shit out of you."_

 _"You know, your violence can't be stopped by words or reason, Shizu-chan. I'm no good with it. It's a real problem. Let me go."_

…

 _"Tell me, to what do I owe this pleasure, Shizu-chan?"_

 _"I'm obviously here to kick your smarmy little ass."_

 _"And why do I deserve to have my ass kicked?"_

 _"Because I'm pissed off."_

 _"Now don't you think that you're just a little too old to play the part of the playground bully, Shizu-chan?"_

…

 _"To think that all that didn't kill you - you really are a monster. Although the fact you protected a human can only be described as comical. I might've mentioned this before, but do you think you can get people to like you if you save them? Oh, wait, or do you have special feelings for that girl Varona, maybe?"_

 _"Izaya."_

 _"What is it?"_

 _"So long."_

 _"Right, goodbye it is."_

…

Izaya had accepted his fate, but Shizuo had seen the pure fear written on people's faces moments before he attacked enough to know.

He was such a coward he could laugh, but so couldn't Shizuo.

He was the biggest coward in the world, and he couldn't stop himself. His hand reached out, meeting the chill of the vending machine. He couldn't feel the shiver go down his spine.

…

 _"Stop being a coward and show yourself, Izaya-kun."_

Effortlessly, he lifted the machine.

 _"Coward is a bit much. I'll never be afraid of you."_

Izaya slumped against the closest pole, sputtering blood as he coughed.

 _"Then get down from there and fight me."_

Shizuo moved, closer and closer.

 _"You'll have to catch me first!"_

Izaya froze.

 _"Izaya!"_

And in an instant, everything stopped.

. . .

 _I worry about those who trust me so easily._

Orihara Izaya laughed, and laughed, and laughed inside that twisted brain of his. Were he physically capable of laughing, he might have had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. It wasn't funny; really, it wasn't.

He was just so afraid.

 _"Do you believe in an afterlife?"_ He had asked Celty one night, a night that seemed like eons ago.

 _[You'll find out when you die.]_ Had been her response. _[How about you?]_

 _"I don't. So to be perfectly honest, I'm afraid of death. I want to live as long as I can."_ No matter how hard Celty tried, she couldn't quite get under his skin, and he continued on. _"Hey, once you're dead, you're gone for good. It's a waste of your life if you don't enjoy it, right?"_

 _Death means to become nothing. It's not the pain that disappears, it's your existence._

For a moment, just one single moment, he believed he could accept his fate. This would be his punishment, his karmic destiny, if he believed in futile things such as that.

With a silent laugh, he though to himself, _Sorry, Shizu-chan._

And just like that, Orihara Izaya ceased to exist.

. . .

 _I killed him._

 _I killed him._

 _I killed him._

 _I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I kill_

. . .

 _"Unfortunately we can't turn back time, Shizu-chan."_

. . .

 _It's all my fault._

. . .

No one would ever know.

It wasn't Shizuo's choice. He begged, pleaded to be able to turn himself in, but it wasn't enough. Izaya would become nothing more than a memory, missing, but never missed, just another urban legend in a city where anything was possible.

Over time, Ikebukuro would forget that Orihara Izaya ever existed, but Shizuo never could.

The twins had lost the only one who had ever been there for them besides each other. Shinra could claim that he would just have one less friend, but even Shizuo could see how much they meant to each other. Ikebukuro would never know that it lost a part of its heart that night.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He could have suffocated in that abandoned building at Izaya's mercy. Izaya would be alive, terrorizing the town as always, but _alive_. Shizuo had to wonder, _how would Izaya have felt, if it had been me?_

He wouldn't wish this pain upon anyone.

. . .

"I tried to stop you, but I unfortunately arrived too late," Varona lamented once he had calmed down; as much as he could, all things considered. Barely audible, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Shizuo frowned. "I should be the one apologizing."

Varona gazed him despite him refusing to look up, unable to even clench his fists. All of his anger was simply gone, and Varona felt a certain sadness grip at her heart. "I was going to relay to you that the need for you to become a beast was nil, but I suppose I have no room to speak."

"Thank you."

Varona blinked. "I failed. Why are you thanking me?"

"You were looking out for someone like me."

. . .

The guilt was eternal. No matter who he looked at - Kasuka, Celty, Shinra, Akane, Varona - he could feel nothing but grief, wondering how anyone could stand to look back at him.

. . .

They met again in his dreams by chance.

There was Izaya, just another passerby in the pouring rain, yet everything stopped when Shizuo saw him. He was alive, absentmindedly twirling the handle of his umbrella in his hand, strolling with his atrocious coat flying out behind him. When Izaya turned around to face him, he was smiling, as if nothing had ever happened.

He was alive. Shizuo didn't have to know what he was up to, what had happened, if he was still the same person he had known before. He'd forget the pain, the shame, the desperation. He'd forget that Orihara Izaya ever existed.

Yet, he stopped.

It all started with just an umbrella.

Each night, the dream continued. They formed a truce, and from there, Shizuo found himself wrapped up in a series of events he could have never imagined, events that could never happen, but it was in these impossible thoughts that he found peace. In these dreams, he found a second chance; both of them did. In these dreams, he saw how things could have been. Two lonely souls, drawn together like magnets. Magnets that could only ever push each other away.

When he awoke, tears stained his face. When had been the last time he had cried? He couldn't stop it, and after some time, he gave in.

It drifted.

And drifted.

Everything drifted away from him.

He only wanted to be loved by someone. He didn't even have the bravery to control himself. He was afraid of hurting the one he loved, so he decided not to love anyone.

Feared, feared, and unloved. Time evolved him into a monster.

This is a twisted story, a story of twisted love.

* * *

 **author's note**

Okay, I lied. Surprise! I'm back.

I've had this fic sitting for months now, waiting for the right time to publish it. I didn't like the original draft all that much. I felt like this was something that had to be written perfectly, enough to break people's hearts. (sorry not sorry haha) I got really emotional while rewriting this, and I knew as I almost cried that this had to be good enough.

This is the first experiment of many with revamping my writing. I realized while working on the surprise fic that I needed to sit back and reevaluate some things before I continued any further, which brought me to this. It's not perfect, but it's a huge improvement from the original draft, and I'm happy with it as is. I might be getting a little ahead of myself, because one of the things I need to work on the most is my slight quantity over quality issue, but as I said, this is an experiment. That, and I wanted to get something out so you all don't go too long without me updating.

That aside! Everyone and their mother has written a fic like this, but I felt like it was something I had to do. Life is an Unknown Course and The Story is Eternal explore the possibility of second chances and their power, and how even though you can't turn back time, things can change. With this, I wanted to write the opposite, hence the immense amount of references to liauc. Every action has consequences, and no matter how hard you try, some things can never be reversed. Originally I wanted to write a time travel fic using this concept, but a consistent theme in my writing is how despite everything, these events are grounded in reality. Mistakes can't be erased. In this universe, Izaya can't be saved, and Shizuo has to live with that, forever. He truly hates violence, hates himself, and he became the one thing he tried so hard to convince himself he wasn't. It's devastating, but it's something I wanted to touch on, even if just briefly. I might go more in depth someday, but I have a series of (mostly) fluff to write!

I'm still trying to figure things out with the mystery fic. It's a bit more work than I anticipated, but I'm working hard to give you all the best stories I can. Sorry I have to give you all angst in the meantime. And for those of you where this is the first fic of mine you've read, hi. (￣ω￣;)

As always, thank you so much for reading. I'll hopefully see you all again soon, with a lot of deserved fluff!


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